


Touch Me Someone, I'm Too Young To Feel So Numb

by Penryn3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Infidelity, Kissing, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Not a Love Story, One Shot, POV Ron Weasley, Post-War, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, alcohol consumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28977393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penryn3/pseuds/Penryn3
Summary: “Weasley,” She acknowledged with a nod, before going back to staring off into space like sitting and drinking in a bathtub whilst still dressed at somebody else’s party was a perfectly ordinary thing to do.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger (suggested), Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	Touch Me Someone, I'm Too Young To Feel So Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story.

Ron stumbled through yet another overly fancy door that also turned out to not be a bathroom.

Ever since Hermione had started…whatever the fuck was going on with Malfoy…they had all been invited to these outrageous Malfoy Manor parties. Ron still wasn’t sure if he liked them or not. Rubbing shoulders with the Pureblood Elite was definitely a new kind of experience. 

They usually started out all right, but within a few hours his expensive party clothes started to itch and he inevitably ended up looking for a quiet room to escape too. He just didn’t fit in with this crowd. The fake sincerity that oozed from all the guests trying to cosey up to the rich and famous that got invited to these types of parties made his skin crawl. 

So, right now, he was getting lost in the twisting turning hallways of Malfoys stupidly large house – looking for a bathroom to hide in. He didn’t even need to use the loo, he had just learned from previous experience that it looked less suspicious to be loitering in a bathroom as opposed to say, Narcissa Malfoy's bedroom.

The last door on the left miraculously turned out to be a bathroom, though Ron tripped to a slightly drunken stop at what greeted him inside. Pansy Parkinson was sitting fully clothed in a bathtub full of water with a glass of what looked to be firewhiskey in her hand.

“Weasley.” She acknowledged with a nod, before going back to staring off into space like sitting and drinking in a bathtub whilst still dressed at somebody else’s party was a perfectly ordinary thing to do.

Ron took her in; her mouth was painted with her trademark red lipstick and she was wearing a black silk dress that she somehow still managed to look elegant in – despite the fact that it was scandalously low cut and dripping wet. Her long slim legs were alabaster white and crossed one over the other, feet still encased in black stilettos with heels long enough that they could be used as a weapon – if one were so inclined. With Parkinson, you never knew – vicious little thing that she could be. 

At first glance, she looked absolutely put together- because, well, she always did, but if you looked closely, the eyeliner surrounded her eyes was smudged and the hand that held her crystal whisky glass trembled slightly when she brought it to her mouth.

Ron considered walking out. His hand was even on the doorknob before he stopped himself. He sighed, questioning if he would come to regret this later before turning back and asking:

“Are you alright?”

Pansy eyes slid towards him, expression blank. 

“Don’t trouble yourself, Weasley,” She said, waving her hand airily with a dismissive flick of her fingers, “Go and enjoy the party.”

He surmised that he probably should leave. Even now, he’s not sure why he didn’t. Instead, he shut the door and leant his hip against the vanity. 

“Care to explain why you're sitting in a bathtub full of water with your clothes still on?”

Irritation flashed across her face. "Would you rather I took them off?"

Ron crossed his arms over his chest, settled his body like he was getting comfortable, and waited. 

Pansy sighed, rolling her eyes in a way that Ron felt was far more exaggerated than the situation warranted.

“I’m engaged,” She announced, like it explained anything at all. She lifted her left arm and wriggled her fingers at him, showing off the ludicrously large emerald and diamond ring adorning her hand.

“Uh…congratulations?”

Her lips thinned and she tipped her glass at him in a mock toast.

“Yep, that’s it. Congratulations to me.” She downed the last of her drink in a large swallow before setting it on the edge of the bathtub, running her finger around the rim of the glass slowly, causing a soft melancholy sound to echo around the tiled room. 

“So, not feeling enthusiastic about your impending nuptials then?” Ron smirked, resorting to his childish Hogwarts self, who always felt more than a little gleeful when one of the Slytherins were unhappy in any way.

Pansy’s eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, I forgot Weasley – you have no idea what it’s like to come from a traditional Pureblood family and all the expectations that come with it. How fucking wonderful for you.” 

The words are said with an especially flippant form of sarcasm, but Ron can practically hear the venomous undertone of envy in her words. If Luna Lovegood were present, she would probably say that Pansy’s aura was green with it.

Ron felt a pang of guilt flash through his abdomen. 

“Tell me, then.”

Pansy looked at him, a hint of a sneer still twisting her lips.

“Tell you what, Weasley?”

“Tell me what it’s like being a 'proper and traditional' Pureblood,” His voice softened. “Explain to me what it’s like for you. Make me understand.”

Surprise flittered across Pansy’s face. She sighed, leaning back against the bathtub once more, gaze fixated on the ceiling. For a moment, Ron thought she might not answer.

“Being a Pureblood? It’s like trying to breathe when you’re underwater, only when you look around, everyone else in your life doesn’t seem to have a problem with the lack of air and they look at you like it’s odd that you’re drowning.”

Something in Ron's chest shifted. Because Merlin help him if he didn’t know exactly what she was describing. Ron spent half his life being jealous of Harry for being so famous, and now, being famous in his own right, all he felt was the weight of expectation that came along with always living your life and basing your decisions on what was expected from others. It was suffocating.

Ron pushed off the counter and made his way over to the bathtub, staring down at the woman in front of him. After a moment he lifted his foot, still covered in its leather dress shoe, over the edge of the tub and used it to nudge her legs to the side.

“Weasley, what are you doing?” She asked, startled, as Ron began to climb into the tub.

Still fully clothed in his uncomfortable fancy suit pants and button-down shirt, Ron sat in the water, letting the cold liquid seep into his clothes to shock his warm skin.

He settled himself before meeting her gaze head-on.

“Getting under the water with you.” He said meaningfully, trying to show, for whatever reason, that he understood. 

Pansy cocked her head to the side, studying him. Her gaze slowly travelled down his body in a speculative manner, lingering on his chest, where the white material of his dress shirt was now transparent and sticking to his skin. Ron wondered if she could see his freckles through it. She slowly uncoiled from her position, twisting onto her knees and leaning close, until her face was hovering inches in front of his, alcohol sweetened breath fanning over his lips.

“Are you married, Weasley?” 

Ron shook his head slowly. He was confused and a little taken aback by her sudden proximity. Was this going in the direction he thought it was?

“Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Attached in any way?” She asked, lips brushing his.

Okay, yes it was.

Ron leant back. “Parkinson, are you sure you want to do this?” he murmured. “Weren’t you just telling me about how you’re recently engaged?”

Pansy snorted derisively. “Considering he was getting sucked off in the pantry cupboard an hour ago by that famous Quidditch player that Draco invited – I highly doubt he cares. So Weasley,” She challenged, with a suggestive look below his waist before raising an eyebrow, “Are you up for it?”

Ron considered the woman in front of him. He would be hard-pressed to say whether or not he found Pansy Parkinson attractive. She was beautiful yes, but not in a way he was used to. All the girls he had dated in the past had been beautiful in the way Hermione was beautiful, in a delicate and lovely sort of way – with dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes that crinkled at the corners. Girls who spoke softly and laughed often. Kind Girls. Gentle Girls. Nice Girls. _Happy Girls._

Pansy Parkinson was none of these things. Her beauty was hard angled and razor-edged. She almost never smiled. If she did, a smart man would exit stage left as quickly as possible. Pansy used her beauty as a weapon. In short – Pansy Parkinson was fucking terrifying.

But then, Ron had never considered himself to be a particularly smart man. Making up his mind, he reached forward and dragged Pansy into his lap until she was straddling him, thighs spread wide and knees pressed in tightly next to his hips in the confined space. She looked surprised again, like she had expected him to say no. He waited for her to make the next move. Waited for her to deny him, to come to her senses. If _she_ were a smart woman – she probably would.

Instead, she leant forward, hovering that full red mouth an inch above his. Maybe none of them were as smart as they thought they were.

She paused.

“Just to be clear, I don’t like you.”

“No.” He agreed.

“And you don’t like me,”

“Definitely not.”

“Good.”

Her mouth descended on his. Her lips were cold but her tongue was fire-whiskey hot when it swept into his mouth. Pansy kissed in the same way as she did everything else, with single-minded intent. He was already hard by the time she rocked forward against him – the core of her molten hot compared to the cold water sloshing around them in waves. He tore his mouth away, moving instead to suck at the water droplets that were sliding down her collarbone. Pansy sucked in a breath, hips twitching under his hands. 

Her hands twined up into his hair to tug at the strands, eyes meeting his with a glint that was half-wild. She looked so much more _alive_ than she did a few minutes ago and that look alone is enough to take Ron from intrigued to more than interested. Ron yanked at her dress, where the fabric has bunched around her hips, but the sodden material is resistant - heavy and dragging. Pansy made an impatient noise and reached down, pulling at the hem, and under the combined force of their tugging, the seam splits up her thigh. Pansy didn’t even miss a beat - going for the buckle of his trousers. 

Ron reached between her legs, moaning when he discovers she’s not wearing panties. Pushing his hand away, she holds the base of his cock in her palm as she shifts forward and sinks down on him. Ron’s head thudded back against the rim of the tub, a guttural groan strangling its way out of his throat at the sudden warm wetness surrounding him. Pansy sets a punishing rhythm almost immediately – this was no sweet lovemaking, this was – Hell, Ron didn’t even know what this was, nor was he much inclined to care. If she wanted to use him as a _Fuck You_ to her fiancée – who was he to complain? How could he, when it felt this good?

His hands are now on her arse, assisting her, pushing and pulling her over his length in a riding movement that might almost be too rough. Not that she seems to mind; soft mewls are escaping her mouth as she moves faster and faster, head thrown back, chasing that highest point. Ron wrapped an arm around her, supporting her back with one large hand and moving the other to grasp her delicate throat as his hips piston, thrusting up into her hard and fast. His teeth find her shoulder and she gasps. He’s getting close, and even though he didn’t care about her at all, he suddenly wants to make it clear that it was _him_ making her feel this way. 

“Look at me.” He growled.

Her eyes opened and her gaze locked with his. The stare is intense, her eyes alight and burning. Had they always been such an icy shade of blue? 

Ron reached down, swiping his thumb over her clit once, then twice. He had cause to distractedly wonder if her toes were curling inside her shoes when the sharpness of her heels scrape against his thighs. He pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves a third time. Pansy exhaled sharply, a shudder wracking through her body. She came a moment later – cunt clenching around him in a vice-like grip as her nails embed what felt like permanent indents into the muscles of his shoulders.

Ron didn’t wait for her to come down from her high before he started to move again – fucking her through her orgasm. He yanked the shoulder of her dress down, mouth descending to suck hard on a pebbled nipple as his hips rolled against her, thrusting deeply and without pause. She’s hot and slick and his gaze darts down to where their bodies are joined, watching his cock drive in and out of her. It’s a mesmerising sight and he was surprised by his sudden desire to claim her. He curled his fingers into her hair, tightening his hand into a fist and using it to yank her towards him. He kissed her - hard and bruising.

Pansy cried out, her body tightening around him a second time and that was Ron’s undoing. He swallowed her cries as he exploded inside her. 

Pansy slumped against him and his arms came around her back, idly drawing circles down the slender ridges of her spine as they both gasp for air.

Pansy pulled back. “Well, fuck.”

Ron let out a surprised huff of laughter, the sound loud and belly deep. Pansy smiled then, and Ron’s even more astonished to see how much softer her face looks when it’s genuine. It's gone in an instant and a moment later she's climbing off him and out of the tub. There was no cuddling or sweet words but Ron didn't care - that wasn't what this was. 

Grabbing her wand off the counter, Pansy performed both a cleaning charm and a drying charm in quick succession. She turned back to where he was still sitting in the water and hesitated slightly before:

"Thank you, Weasley,"

"For what?"

"For allowing me a moment to breathe."

"Anytime, Parkinson." He replied, smirking and tipping an imaginary hat in her direction. "Feel free to come find me next time you need some _air_."

Pansy rolled her eyes, but Ron could have sworn he caught another glimpse of that smile before she shook her head and walked out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments/Kudos are lovely ❤


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